


this is how it starts

by sebbykurt



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, dumb boys in love, teenager!AU, video games and chapstick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:16:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebbykurt/pseuds/sebbykurt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(not that he’s <i>mad</i> for daryl or anything.  no, that would be against every rule of the bro code <i>ever.</i>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is how it starts

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god i'm such an idiot

they’re sitting on the floor, controllers in hand and wires crisscrossed on the carpet, when daryl randomly pauses the game and reaches into his pocket.

“what the hell, man?” rick growls, narrowing his eyes at the other boy because he was _this_ close to finally beating him. 

daryl rolls his eyes as he pulls out a small tube of chapstick, its label ripped off and the plastic dull with fingerprints.  “chapped lips, asshole.”

rick huffs impatiently but doesn’t fight it.  he leans back against the edge of daryl’s bed and watches, supposedly with disinterest, as daryl applies the stuff to his mouth.

everything is just peachy until rick smells the chapstick and, _holy shit_ , it smells like strawberries or apples or _something_ fruity and sweet. 

curious, because why in the _hell_ would someone like _daryl fucking dixon_ own a pair of fruity chapstick, rick leans closer.  the smell is _strong_.  but it smells so good that he can’t help himself from inching even closer.  (back when he was still dating lori, her fruity lip-gloss drove him absolutely mad.  apparently, chapstick and boys have the same effect.)

(not that he’s _mad_ for daryl or anything.  no, that would be against every rule of the bro code _ever_.)

daryl’s eyes widen when rick gets too close, but he doesn’t shift away.  just mumbles “what the fuck, grimes?” and applies one last layer.

this close, rick can see the shift from pink to white as daryl bites down on his bottom lip, an action that ultimately negates the effect of the chapstick anyway.  but he’s always had a habit of gnawing on his lips, tearing at the sensitive flesh with the dull edges of his teeth.

rick would hate it if he wasn’t weirdly obsessed with watching daryl bite his lips. 

but no, never mind, it’s not weird.  he won’t let himself _think_ it’s weird, anyway. 

because if it _was_ weird, then he wouldn’t be rocking forward so that he’s sitting on his knees, eyes locked on daryl’s mouth.  he wouldn’t be closing the space between them with one hand braced on daryl’s bed and the other on his leg.

he wouldn’t be pressing their lips together, licking the taste of berries right off daryl’s mouth.

for a moment, daryl doesn’t move.  his whole body goes tense as rick brings one hand up to cup his jaw and rick is starting to think that maybe this was bad idea, that maybe he didn’t think it all the way through but then, _then_.

daryl’s body turns to liquid and he’s letting rick’s tongue into his mouth with a quivering sigh, hands curling into fists on his lap until rick reaches down and tangles their fingers together.

it’s awkward and slow, mostly because they’re both teenage boys and this is… _well_.

but rick doesn’t want to question it.  just crawls into daryl’s lap and kisses him a little harder, a little faster.  their teeth knock together and rick thinks crazily that he should have tried this sometime sooner.

rick pulls away, just to breathe a little, but daryl isn’t having it and latches on almost immediately to rick’s neck.  the sound that tears out of his throat in response is nearly inhuman, caught somewhere between a whimper and a growl.

(he would feel embarrassed if daryl’s hands weren’t fidgeting with his belt.)

“shit, daryl,” he pants. 

“ _mmm_ ,” daryl hums.  he pulls his mouth away and it takes everything rick has not to cry out and drag him back.  “i can’t believe this is happenin’,” he mumbles, reaching down to tug at his zipper.

and rick thinks that maybe there’s a little more to all of this, that maybe he should stop and think for a minute, but his dick is throbbing like _crazy_ and his teenage hormones are driving him up the fucking wall.  he can think about it later.  _they_ can think about it later.

daryl captures rick’s hands and very boldly drags them down to press against the bulge of his jeans.  rick’s fingers slip past the open zipper and brush against the heat of him through his boxer shorts and he _really_ wishes his fingers weren’t shaking. 

daryl snorts but doesn’t make fun of him for it, just licks a stripe across rick’s jaw.  “i want you to suck me off,” he says, voice hitched in a sort of breathlessness that will probably haunt rick’s dreams for the rest of his life.

this is where rick should probably put a stop to it, should tell daryl that he’s a little out of his mind and that he has pretty much _no_ idea what he’s doing, but daryl’s hands on his skin are reassuring and okay, _whatever_ , maybe he’s wanted to do this for a lot longer than he’s willing to admit.

so instead of saying _no, we should take a minute to cool off_ , he crawls out of daryl’s lap and breathes out a rushed “ _shit, yeah, of course_.”

it isn’t all that awkward until daryl rids himself of his pants and underwear all in one go, leaving rick pretty much face-to-face with _daryl dixon’s cock_.  he’s impressed for all of five seconds before he has the nerve to feel embarrassed, dropping his head against the inner flesh of daryl’s thigh and groaning miserably.

“somethin’ wrong?” daryl asks, reaching down to weave his fingers through rick’s hair.  he sounds rough and breathless, but there’s a note of concern in his voice that makes rick’s stomach feel like it’s been replaced with a million butterflies.

“mmf, yeah, just…”  he raises his eyes to meet daryl’s and is nearly knocked backwards by the intensity of the younger boy’s gaze.  “i’ve just never done this before.”

daryl’s smile is crooked and sloppy and it makes rick feel so unbelievably _good_.  sure, maybe he has no idea how to give a blow job, but his mouth is still watering and it’s not like he’s going to _bite the other kid’s dick off_ or anything.  (god, he hopes that doesn’t happen.)

so before daryl can waste his breath on reassurances, rick reaches for daryl’s cock and wraps his hand around the base.  daryl’s body jolts with the sudden contact, and rick can’t help the shit-eating grin that splits his face because of it.

“rick, i swear to god if you don’t—“

rick rolls his eyes but makes sure to cut the other boy off by wrapping his lips around the head of his cock.  daryl sucks in a sharp breath and it sends electricity shooting down rick’s spine, encourages him to take a little more of daryl into his mouth.

it feels oddly _good_ for him, which is strange considering how under-stimulated he is right now.  he isn’t even palming himself through his jeans, too preoccupied with holding daryl’s hips down to avoid gagging around too much at once. 

he guesses it has something to do with the _sounds_ that daryl’s making.  these low, cut-off groans of pleasure that make rick feel like the luckiest man in the whole world because _he’s_ the reason daryl dixon is currently falling apart under him. 

_he’s_ the reason daryl doesn’t know what to do with his hands.  _he’s_ the reason daryl’s back is arching up off the carpet, his spine a question mark against the ground.  he’s the reason daryl is panting his name like a religious mantra, warning him in broken syllables that he’s _gonna come, shit, i’m gonna come, **rick**._

rick isn’t entirely certain what the protocol is for this situation, but he can’t exactly justify pulling away, so he swallows down as much of daryl as he can and gives a hard suck.

it’s just as startling as it is exhilarating, when daryl curls inward and comes down rick’s throat with a spectacular shout, clamping his hand over his mouth in a last-ditch attempt to keep himself quiet.

rick pulls off to wipe at his mouth, forcing his gag reflex to _calm the fuck down_ while he works daryl through it with his free hand.

daryl swats his hand away before dropping his own against his forehead, lips curled into a smile as he laughs in disbelief.  “holy _shit_.”

rick is still working on swallowing when daryl sits up, grabs the collar of his shirt, and pulls him in for a kiss.  it’s a little too forceful, a little _too much_ , but rick accepts the blunt of it as gracefully as he can, reaching up to twist his fingers through daryl’s unruly locks.

he thinks it’s probably a little weird for daryl, to taste _that_ part of himself on rick’s tongue, but if he’s not complaining then neither is rick.

“remind me to use chapstick more often,” daryl mumbles, cupping rick’s face between his hands and nudging his way between the older boy’s legs.

rick tries not to smile.  he fails miserably.  “where’d you even get that fruity shit anyway?  doesn’t seem like the kind you’d like.”

daryl slides a hand down his stomach.  “michonne let me borrow it.”

and as daryl starts kissing down rick’s neck, hands working quickly at tugging down rick’s jeans, rick makes a mental note to thank michonne later. 

(and by ‘ _thank_ ’ he means build a statue in her honor because holy _shit_ this is perfect.)


End file.
